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Sometimes the best-laid plans are….. muddled. My plan was to do a Saddle Sore 1000 to Tombstone Arizona from Tyler, Texas. Once I got there I would meet, mingle and celebrate with fellow MTF members.
Before I left my wife had warned me about bad weather moving into Texas and of course I blew it off because I had plans. I left Tyler Friday January 12th at 01:30 and headed for Tombstone straight across Texas, New Mexico and Arizona on I-20/ I-10. The trip to Tombstone was fairly uneventful. On the way I met a guy from Houston riding a new Triumph Tiger who was on his way to Baja. We rode together from Van Horn to El Paso where we fueled our bikes and went our separate ways.
I rolled into Tombstone at 6:30PM and got Jack Gustafson from Glennallen, Alaska to be my end witness. We all got together and headed for “The Longhorn Restaurant” for dinner.
After dinner and some great conversation I went back to my room and called my wife. It was 9:30 PM Texas time and she was completely freaked-out having not heard from me in 18+ hours and said she was worried because the weather in Texas had deteriorated. It seems Abilene to Dallas was experiencing freezing rain and more was on the way. I apologized for not checking in and assured her I’d be fine riding back, she assured me I wouldn’t make it all the way back before Tuesday.
Saturday was beautiful and sunny. Most of us spent Saturday hanging around the breakfast buffet consuming gallons of coffee. Later that morning I headed over to Boot Hill to find my namesake. You see in the early ‘80s I had a friend that visited Boot Hill and came home with a picture of a grave bearing my name. Since then I always wanted to visit.
Sure enough that morning I found the grave of James Hickey, he was shot dead by Wm. Clayborne for insisting they have a drink together. It made me leary about going to Big Nose Kate’s Saloon that night. Tombstone has been preserved and is full of history. It is well worth the trip. As I walked back to the motel that night from the saloon I noticed the temperature had dropped maybe 20 degrees. Back in my room I watched the Weather Channel and again spoke with my wife Michelle, it seemed like the bad weather in Texas had no intentions of giving up anytime soon.
It took three tries to get my bike cranked the next morning. It was about 04:30am and the temperature was 20 degrees. As I packed my bike Kent a rider from Phoenix came by and wished me luck on my return trip.
I had a Gerbing heated vest, socks and gloves on under a full Aerostich suit and with it not yet hooked to the bikes battery it was pretty cold. I plugged in my umbilical cord and within minutes of riding I could feel the warmth generated by my trusty Odyssey battery.
I rode in the morning darkness up Hwy-80w to I-10 and headed east towards New Mexico. As I rode across Arizona it became even colder and I started to feel some discomfort on my left ankle. I wasn’t sure if it was a burning sensation or if my sock was somehow bundled up and was putting pressure on the inside of my left ankle. Whatever was causing the discomfort it was difficult to determine because of the cold. I was riding about 70mph and my thermometer on the bike was reading the air temp at 18-20f.
The first gas stop that morning was at the New Mexico border and when I turned off the heat to fuel up the bike I started to shiver. Truckers at the fuel stop looked at me like I was nuts. I left a message on my wife’s cell to let her know I was on the road, my voice quivered as I spoke. I also noticed that I was limping some but the deep pain I experienced earlier on my ankle had stopped.
Back on the road and crossing New Mexico it was a cold but clear and a beautiful morning. It was Sunday and traffic was light. It was cold but good to be on the road just going somewhere. At this point I was pretty determined to run straight back to Tyler, Texas and I started to calculate how long it would take me to get home from Demming, New Mexico. I stopped in El Paso for fuel and it was in the 40’s with brisk winds but it was clear and dry. At this point I was sure I’d make it home that night. The girl at the gas stop told me El Paso was expecting snow the next day. I kind of laughed to myself and thought no big deal darling; I won’t be in El Paso tomorrow!
Heading east out of El Paso I saw a guy going west on a KLM Adventurer loaded down, we waved in passing. I thought, “Geez, I wish I could yell over there, “hey where you coming from and how’s the weather back east?” I figured if he came from the east from any distance at all I was home free. As I zipped down I-10 towards Van Horn I noticed the pain was getting worse on my left ankle even though I’d backed off the heat a little. It was time to investigate; I dropped into the rest area outside Van Horn for a look-see at the old ankle.
I have to tell you I was in pain at this point pretty bad and was shocked to discover a nice second degree burn all blistered on my left inside ankle. I thought I’d smelled burning flesh earlier but I’d hoped it wasn’t mine!
The wire inside my Gerbing sock was looped over on itself and generated a “hot spot” and now a “burnt spot” on my poor ankle. Stupid is as stupid does, maybe next time I’ll stop and check before I fry myself. I limped back to my bike, took a picture of the graffiti rock at the rest area and headed to Van Horn for fuel.
I called the wife and told her where I was and that it was 51 degrees, life is good and I’m heading home. Michelle had been glued to the weather channel all week-end and told me she doubted I’d make it because ice storms where all over West Texas to Dallas and the weather was only going to get worse. In my mind I saw ice storms moving northeast ahead of me and the roads thawing out for my safe passage. In otherwords I hallucinated a clear passage just for me.
With a lot less pain in my ankle after fixing the wire in my sock and a full tank of fuel I rolled along I-10 in the 51 degree heat for 20 miles and then something strange happened. It became quite cold again and I noticed the brush and cactus had ice on them. Yup, covered from top to bottom and it was now 33 degrees on my trusty thermometer. Chatter on the CB now turned to west bound truckers telling eastbound truckers that I-20 was closed at Monahans, Texas because of icy road conditions.
I quickly thought about running across I-10 to Iraan, Texas and picking up hwy 190 and take a more southern route home. This would bring me out north of Austin on I-35 to Waco and 31 west to Tyler. By the time I hit the I-10/I-20 junction truckers were talking about the ice storm arriving in San Antonio and Austin that night. I’m starting to think every hotel along this corridor is going to be booked and I’ll just freeze somewhere out here in West Texas under an overpass. I dropped the hammer and streaked towards Fork Stockton 90 miles or so down the road. I pulled into the Holiday Inn Express in a little over an hour and checked in. It felt good to know I wouldn’t freeze to death under an overpass somewhere. Tomorrow was another day.
I spent the evening talking to Michelle, searching the weather on my laptop and watching the story of Richard Kuklinski on “Discovery Channel” How appropriate to watch a show about a psychopath that murdered over 100 people entitled “The Ice Man”. I figured when I awoke the next morning I’d make the short run up hwy118 to I-20 and start home…. again. It was plenty cold at 5am and by the time I made it up to I-20 the temperature was about 15 degrees. I was having to alternate putting my gloved hands on the head of the engine to keep my hands warm as I went down the road. My G3 Gerbing gloves were not quite doing the job.
I passed an 18 wheeler and immediately heard him say on the CB “your not gonna believe this but some idiot just passed me on a motorcycle going about 70mph!”, another exclaimed “what’s the 20 on the motorcycle?” This is unusual weather for Texas and unusual to see a motorcycle out in a ice storm. The landscape was covered in ice but at this point the bridges and underpasses were ice-free.
The further east I rode the more trucks I saw in ditches from the night before. Some were jack-knifed and others twisted and flipped over. I also started to notice ice patches on the road, exit ramps and frontage road. I was cold and needed to stop and reassess the situation. Sitting in the Exxon fuel stop in Colorado City drinking warm coffee and dining on a egg sandwich I wondered how far I’d make it this day, I would find out soon enough. Back on the Interstate things didn’t look any better, the sun was up and it still was only 18 degrees or so and the icy patches were not melting. I rode 15miles and exited at Roscoe for more thinking. The exit ramp was slick and so was the frontal road. I pulled into a gas station parking lot and it happened, down I went. I tried to catch myself but to no avail I was on a skating rink. The bike and me went down in a slow motion crash, my bikes engine screamed loudly in disgust as I collected myself. Luckily a strong young buck witnessed my misfortune and helped me get the old girl back up on her feet. I thanked him, road across the street to a empty parking lot and checked for damage, which was minimal.
I figured I’d had enough and headed west back to Colorado City and checked into a Days Inn to think…again, and lick my wounds. It was twelve noon and I figured if you don’t know what to do take a nap. I slept to about 1:30pm, awoke and started to wonder what I’d do. I got on the bikes CB in the parking lot and asked a lone trucker going west what it looked like back towards Dallas. Thinking I was another trucker he said ”well driver if you keep ‘er around 45mph and are careful you’ll be OK.”
Well I wasn’t in a 18-wheeler, but then it hit me. Back in Tombstone “YOGI” had said if he ever was stuck he’d rent a truck and put his bike in it. Out comes the Yellow Pages and Colorado City has one U-Haul dealer listed. A quick call and I find out he has one truck, a 12 footer with a ramp and he is 2 miles down the eastbound frontage road. I throw on some gear and ride to my “new” ride. It’s going to cost me but I can’t stand to spend another day idle. I buy some tie down straps and ask for some assistance putting my bike in the truck. With the ramp fully extended I sit upon my trusty steed and glare at the back of an empty box and a very narrow aluminum ramp. As I inch forward towards the ramp my heart is pounding, a young kid on one side and the shop owner on the other steadying the rear of my bike. The further I go the more apparent it is that before long I’m not going to be able to touch the ground with my feet and I freeze sure I’m going to crash this thing half-way up the ramp. Suddenly the kid yells “go for it dude”, I hesitate then think, “if I don’t do this I’m stuck here.” With that thought I halfway close my eyes rev the motor up and Evil Knievel my bike up the ramp and arrive inside the box a better man. Back at the hotel I load up the rest my gear call Michelle and give her the good news, I’m headed home. I left the hotel at 2:30pm, figured I’d be home about 9:00pm or so. To make a very long story somewhat shorter I made it home at 11:30 that night delayed after sitting over two hours on the interstate waiting while a ice covered bridge in a 15mile long construction zone was cleared. I counted over 25 trucks wrecked from Colorado City to Dallas.
The next morning I headed to the local Kawasaki dealer to get some help getting my bike out of the truck. On the way over as I stopped for a red light I heard a loud crash. I had stopped several times the night before and checked the tie downs to make sure they where tight. But not that morning! At the dealership a short two blocks away I opened the door to find my bike laying on its side and she wasn’t screaming this time. I was sure I’d killed her and my heart dropped to my stomach. I wondered where Wm. Clayborne was when you needed him.
I was lucky again and only broke off the right mirror. I bought her some new Avon shoes that day to make up for the drop and ordered a shiny new mirror. When I returned the rental truck that day I took notice of the graphics on the side. Not only did it say U-haul but had a picture of a Walrus and said “Maine, Hidden Ice Age Land Revealed-Cherryfield.” I thought how appropriate and that I had revealed some “Ice Age Land” of my own.
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